


of friendship and corpses

by wereallmadherealice



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, but like i kinda dig, def OOC, literally a snippet i found on my drive from 3 years ago?, one (1) corpse, percival and newt are related to addamses, there is no fbawtft and addams family crossovers?? whaa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27446281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wereallmadherealice/pseuds/wereallmadherealice
Summary: “Mhhm. Eugh. His brain’s mostly liquid. Do we need an intact brain to make an Inferi?” Newt mutters to himself, clearly not expecting an answer.Even so, Percival hums thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t think so. I haven’t made an Inferi before, but from what I know, rotten corpses are just as good as fresh bodies.”“Oh.” Newt blinks at him. “So it’s the technique that is flawed.”Percival shrugs.It is interesting, but he is no expert.
Relationships: Original Percival Graves & Newt Scamander
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	of friendship and corpses

“Will you help me work on uncle Abretan?”

“Sure.” Percival agrees before even fully processing the words, charmed by the boy’s easy enthusiasm, and spends the next five hours seriously listening to the boy’s chatting as they try to turn Uncle Abretan into a functional Inferi.

“He was trying to do experiments on himself,” Newt, at one point, past the three hour mark, explains briefly. His wand somehow stays between his teeth, _lumos_ illuminating the tip, and eyes completely focused on drilling a small hole into the corpse’s skull, while Percival dutifully pins it’s grey hair out of Newt’s immediate work surface.

“Oh?” Percival lifts an eyebrow. He’s not in the least surprised, but they’ve been having trouble with the curse for a while now, so some insight could prove useful.

“Mhhm. Eugh. His brain’s mostly liquid. Do we need an intact brain to make an Inferi?” Newt mutters to himself, clearly not expecting an answer. 

Even so, Percival hums thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t think so. I haven’t made an Inferi before, but from what I know, rotten corpses are just as good as fresh bodies.”

“Oh.” Newt blinks at him. “So it’s the technique that is flawed.”

Percival shrugs.

It is interesting, but he is no expert.

Newt takes a hold of his wand and jabs it into the broken skull, swirling the goop inside around like particularly disgusting soup. He makes an interested sound as the goop turns vaguely green and quickly pulls out a notebook and scribbles something down in it. 

He then shifts his gaze back to Percival’s face. “I think, at one point, he was trying to make the Inferi - or himself - immune to fire. It did not work. But. I-um, I think I can do it. Eventually.” He squints up at Percival, seemingly looking for approval. Percival nods seriously and Newt’s face breaks into a shy, but excited grin. 

“Anyway, after dying, if he had succeeded, he wanted to be invited to all of the family gatherings,” Newt pauses briefly and adds with a confused frown on his face: ”which he already was, obviously.” 

Percival doesn’t bother to suppress a small grin that steals over his face at Newt’s clear affront that his Uncle would not be invited to the gathering due to such a minor inconvenience as actual death. 

“Of course.” He encourages.

“Yeah. So, he wanted to be invited to the family gatherings,” Newt repeats, clearly distracted by trying to do multiple things at once. “And he wanted to be set on fire each time, during every gathering. His will describes it in more detail, I think, but that’s the main thing. Hmm...”

“Why did he want to be set on fire at the gatherings?” Percival asks, feeling only mildly curious. Nothing can surprise him anymore, but he’s always interested in hearing about his family's various shenanigans. 

Peverell’s excuses tend to range from wanting to leave an impact on the history and screw with everyone, to simply being bored as all hell and maybe becoming a tiny bit unhinged from it.

Or a lot. He wonders if his cousin Aurellia ever managed to escape the asylum her family had trapped her into, after they immured her into one of the walls.

Which also serves to remind him of his great-aunt Loretta, who should still be at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, after she refused to leave it due to losing a lover’s quarrel. Well, either that, or someone had actually trapped her under a rock and no one had bothered to check up on her after the first 120 years.

Percival makes a mental note to check on her out of curiosity.

And the fact that she had lent him one of her silver necklaces for Necromancy practice, that he really ought to give back.

“Oh, I think he thought it would be funny.” Percival blinks, not realising he had sunk quite so deep in his thoughts. He’s about to apologise, but Newt gives him a knowing look and waves it off, flicking some brain goop from his wand and hand on the floor, where it immediately begins to dissolve the rock with a hissing, sizzling sound.  
  
The hole it makes leads to a deeper level of the basement and Percival can hear muffled cries and screams that were previously obscured by what he assumes to be many muffling charms.

“Oh bugger.” Newt mutters. He crouches down near the hole and waves at someone below. “Sorry!” A groan answers him. 

Newt looks back at Percival, he flushes to the tips of his ears, which he finds strangely charming. 

“Sorry Mister Graves. Seems I’ve disturbed Lurch at the Lethifold feeding time.”

“Don’t be.” he says easily. “Also, Percival, please. I’m not that old yet.” He tries for a light, teasing tone and is pleased when Newt ducks his head lower, but there’s an unmistakable smile on his lips. 

He’s been enjoying the boy’s company way more than he first imagined he would, and the surprise that comes with the realisation is nice.

“Shall we continue, Mister Scamander?” he inquires, angling himself to sit more comfortably without letting go of the corpse's head, and almost gives into the urge to laugh out loud at Newt’s boggled stare as the boy stammers to ‘call him Newt, really, please and thank you’.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I stumbled across this snippet on my google drive that I made like 2 - 3 years ago. 
> 
> I have no memory of writing this whatsoever. 
> 
> But I thought the concept was kind of interesting, so I cleaned it up a little and decided to post it.


End file.
